


A Light in the Dark

by rainbowysl



Category: The Great Gatsby (1974), The Great Gatsby (2013)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Nick and Daisy are campaign managers, modern day AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 19:29:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/802351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowysl/pseuds/rainbowysl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick and Gatsby's relationship and Nick finding Gatsby at the pool. Modern Day AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Light in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this last year as an assignment for English and realized quite a bit later that I'd just written my first fanfiction. I'm actually quite proud of this. It's kind of AU only because it doesn't involve any relationship between Jordan and Nick or Tom and Daisy because, well, it was written as a "short story assignment." I had used different names for the characters and attempted to change them to the most appropriate characters here. Sorry, I'm blabbering. ENJOY.

I remember the first time I met Gatsby. I was at a large, expensive party in a New York penthouse with a pool on the roof because my job as a campaign manager needed me to be there. I held a scotch in my hand that I hadn’t even tasted (it was more for show than to actually drink) and wandered the outskirts of the party. I took pleasure in listening to conversations between important people and watching the flirty gestures of tipsy party goers. A pretty girl in a yellow dress batted her eyelashes at a man who was engrossed in her friend. An ambassador leaned close to the ear of a colleague, trying not to be overheard. Most of these people would never meet their host. Many knew the name. I was one of the lucky few to know the man.  
Around an hour before the party dissolved, I found myself sitting next to a fellow campaign manager, Daisy, at a table of mostly drunk guests. Daisy leaned over toward me.  
“Have you heard the stories about Gatsby?” She asked.  
“Stories?” I replied.  
“They say he was a spy for the CIA. He was supposedly discharged, but no one knows why.”  
The man next to us had overheard her.  
“I heard he sells illicit drugs on the black market,” he slurred.  
The two continued their banter, but my focus shifted elsewhere and I found myself making eye contact with a man across the table. His wavy blond hair fell perfectly in his face, just over his eyes. His blue eyes sparkled as though laughing at a joke only he knew. And his smile. When he smiled, it felt as though it was only meant for you. I would find out later that this was the infamous Gatsby.

 

He walked me to the elevator that night, as the last stragglers made their way out.  
“Do you live around here?” He asked. “I was hoping to take you up in my chopper tomorrow, show you the city.”  
“You have a helicopter?” I said incredulously.  
There was that smile again. “Of course. So, what do you say? I’ll send a car around your place tomorrow, say 8 o’clock?”  
“S-sure.” The elevator bell dinged. I opened my mouth to say something else, but at that moment, his phone began to ring.  
“Excuse me, would you?” He smiled politely and left so quickly he might have evaporated. The elevator had nearly reached the bottom floor when I realized he didn’t even know where I lived.

His car found me at 8 o’clock anyway. As I stood on my porch, I must have looked something like a codfish, with my mouth opening and closing, hoping to grasp some unknown words out of the air. His chauffer opened his door and he got out. He stood on the walkway and chuckled. “Well don’t just stand there, come on!”  
This was the first of the many mysteries of Gatsby. I never found the answers to most of these mysteries, and I doubt I ever will. Our summer continued just like that day, doing something new and exciting (at least to me) nearly every day. We had lunch in Central Park, watched fireworks on the 4th of July from his roof, and nudged each other when pretty girls passed by. We became increasingly close, telling secrets and acting like teenage boys. Then he met Daisy.

She had a boyfriend in Michigan who called her 15 times a day. He was tall and broad and dark when she really wanted lean and fair. She was living in New York City alone and, now that the politician she had supported was out of the race, had more time on her hands than she knew what to do with. My daily adventures with Gatsby turned to weekly ones, and eventually vanished. I had grown to love Daisy as a sister, but a kind of bitterness that I didn’t know what to do with wormed its way into me. I didn’t know what to call it. There were holes in the walls of my apartment that I covered with pictures from when I came home from a night at the bar where I drowned the sorrows I tried to ignore. The campaign process was becoming more vigorous and I poured myself into my work. I turned the other way when I saw Daisy and Gatsby on the street and changed my coffee shop so I wouldn’t even have to see his assistant. I denied to myself and to my friends that I was jealous. Jealous of what?

Gatsby called me one night in early August.  
“She barely talks to me anymore, what do I do?” he whined.  
“You seemed pretty happy the last time I saw you two together.” I said harshly.  
“You’re no help at all!” he shouted. Something sloshed in the background as he took a huge gulp of something, most likely alcoholic. “Why can’t you just help me?” He slurred. “Isn’t that what friends are supposed to do? You’re a lousy friend.”  
“And you’re drunk,” I replied. “Go to sleep, Jay. I’ll check on you in the morning and we can talk this out then.”

 

I’ll never forget the next day. For some reason, I decided to return to my old coffee shop and ended up in line behind Gatsby’s assistant. As she picked up her order from the counter, she turned and our eyes met. Her eyes were full of fear. Something was wrong. I turned and ran from the coffee shop, vaguely hearing the barista shout after me that my order was ready.  
I got to Gatsby’s as fast as I could. I was in front of his door when it happened. Bang! Bang! Two pistol reports right above me, one right after the other. Bang! Another one.  
“Jay!” I screamed. I rammed my shoulder into the door. “Jay!” I finally kicked in the door, not caring what it would cost me to repair it. I sprinted up to the pool, taking the stairs two at a time. My eyes fell first on the pool where a tall, broad shouldered, dark haired man floated on top of the water, blood flowing from his head. I forced myself to walk over. A pistol had sunk to the floor of the pool. I found Alice next, her look of terror frozen on her face. I closed my eyes, feeling sick, and turned away. When I opened them again, I saw something that confirmed my worst fears. A fair haired man lay on the pool deck. “No,” I breathed. “Please no.” Suddenly, he stirred. I rushed to his side. I knelt at his head, sitting back on my heels. Slowly, gently, I lifted his head onto my lap. A single tear fell from my cheek into his perfect golden hair.  
“Nick.” A soft faint whisper escaped his lips. He tried to raise his arm to wipe away the trail the tear had left behind. I caught his hand before it got there.  
“Don’t.” I said. “I called 911 when I heard the shots. Just relax. You’re going to be fine.”  
We both knew I was lying. I saw the blood blossoming out of the wound in his abdomen. I never let go of that hand. I never cried. I just held his head on my lap and combed my fingers through his hair, as though I were putting him to sleep. His last breath escaped him long before the sirens could be heard. I don’t know how long I sat there alone, holding him. It could have been an hour or mere seconds. To me, it was an eternity.  
I read a book once where a man looked at a green light at the end of a dock. In this story, that light represented something he could never have. When I read it, it was the good in him. Whatever kept him pure was in that light. I guess Jay was my light.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this. I remember that I enjoyed writing it. Hopefully this summer I'll be able to get some writing in that isn't attached to school :P


End file.
